


In the Light

by aveyune23



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Archaeology, Cassian admits Jyn is amazing, Ch 11 is the result of the author drinking beer while gambling on ponies, Ch 9 is canon-compliant FYI, College Parties, Drabble Collection, Ewoks can throw a helluva party, F/M, Friendship, Jyn is a petty thief for love, Love over a sifter, Romance, Sickfic, Smut, Swearing, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, ch 12 is nsfw (but not explicit), cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aveyune23/pseuds/aveyune23
Summary: ”Right here in the light, hold me and don’t you ever let this die.”Many moments, many galaxies, and they’re by each other’s side through it all.(A collection of drabbles and short fics from my Tumblr ask box and beyond)





	1. Another Frozen Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my pile of tumblr ask box fics! Chapter summaries will detail the prompt and who it’s from/for, as well as establish the rating
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Here, take my blanket” for crazy-fruit
> 
> (In-universe, Rated M for language)

“Why is it,” she asked through chattering teeth, “every mission we get assigned ends up being bloody, fucking cold?”

Cassian grinned at her and shrugged. “I don’t mind,” he quipped. She glared at him, muttering under her breath as she huddled deeper into her coat.

“Bloody fucking warm-blooded son of a—”

“What was that?”

Her eyes narrowed further. “Nothing.”

He settled back against the rock outcropping that they were camped out under. They were only on this moon for intel, but it was going to be a lengthy stakeout. He had already laid out their bedrolls, and he had started the heat lamp, but Jyn was cold-blooded apparently, and vocal about it, too.

“This is worse than Hoth,” she grumbled.

“Quit whining,” he told her, but there was no heat behind it. She was visibly shaking, and he rolled his eyes.

“Here,” he said, reaching out towards his bedroll. “Take my blanket.”

She nodded, looking grateful, and he wrapped it around her shoulders, and then on a whim, put his arm around her as well, pulling her close. Her head settled against his chest, and she burrowed into his side, sighing.

“How are you so warm?” she asked him. His mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“You have to be when you’re born on a planet worse than this.”

She mulled that over, then asked quietly, “Will you tell me about it?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath. “Not right now,” he told her. “But someday.”


	2. Tell me again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Tell me again” for crazy-fruit

“Yknow you could have just called roadside assistance for this,” Jyn grumbled. Cassian would have smirked, but he was too busy trying to pull the spare off the back of his Honda.

“I know, but they would have charged me and I can’t afford it.” He tucked the phone tighter between his ear and shoulder, then said “Besides, I have you. Now tell me again.”

She sighed, and repeated her instructions. She had been shocked that he didn’t know how to change a tire, and honestly he was a little embarrassed that he didn’t know how. But she had only made fun of him twice, and had sworn not to tell anyone, including Han (“especially not Han,” he’d insisted), and had walked him through it.

“Make sure you loosen the lugnuts BEFORE you jack it up,” she repeated. He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Right, I remember.”

“Okay, put it on speaker, I’ll walk you through it.”

He set the phone down, and followed her instructions. It wasn’t so difficult, he thought as he pulled the flat off. Lining the spare up with the bolts was annoying, but he got it on there easy enough. He tightened the lugnuts and sat back, panting a little from the exertion. He could imagine her doing this like it was a piece of cake, hands greasy and breath heavy. He swallowed.

“Cassian? Everything alright?”

“Yeah! I think I got it.”

“Everything is tightened up?”

“I think so.”

“Alright, you should be good then.”

He picked up his phone and put it back to his ear. “Thanks Jyn. You’re the best.”

There was a brief pause, and then he could practically hear her grinning.

“Tell me again.”

“What?”

“Tell me that I’m the best again.”

He laughed. “You’re the best, Jyn.”

She laughed back. “Damn right I am. You owe me a drink.”

“Just say when and where and I’ll be there.”

“You’re on.”


	3. Don’t Text and Elliptical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I still remember the way you taste” for crazy-fruit. Rated M.
> 
> (Modern AU, sometime after the events of my fic “New Year, New You, New... Us?”)

Jyn was halfway through her turn on the elliptical when Cassian texted her.

C- Dinner tonight?

Jyn slowed her pace and picked up her phone to reply. She’d mastered the art of exercising and texting ages ago.

J- We had dinner last night.

She closed her eyes and shoved down the memories of last night.. She had three miles to go.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

C- I know. I just thought we could do something different tonight.

Jyn hoped he was referring to different cuisine, and not something else. Because really, she was good with a repeat of what they did last night. 

J- I like Italian.

C- Lol I know. Italian it is.

Jyn smirked and took a swig of water before replying.

J- I like Pinot Noir with my pasta.

C- You like Pinot Noir with everything. That’s what you drank last night remember?

Yes. Yes she did remember. She was about to reply when her phone buzzed again.

C- Your lips were stained.

She felt heat rise up her neck, and it wasn’t from the run.

C- I still remember the way you tasted…

Jyn almost fell off the elliptical machine. She fumbled her cell phone and frantically texted back:

J- I am WORKING OUT. STOP IT.

His infuriating response:

C- I have better ideas for exercise.

Jyn groaned and punched into her phone,

J- Leave me alone. I’m busy.

C- Lol. Fine. See you tonight. 7?

Jyn responded with a thumbs up and dropped her phone back into the cup on the machine. She was going to need a long cold shower after this workout, and not because she’d just run 6 miles.


	4. Delirious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I feel like I can’t breathe” for TinCanTelephone
> 
> (This could be either SW or Modern universe. You choose.)

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” Cassian croaked.

Jyn clucked her tongue at him. “That’s because you’re sick.”

“No’m not.” And then he coughed straight from the bottom of his congested chest, deep and rattling. Jyn pushed him back onto his bed and pulled the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders. He looked rather pathetic, and it made her smile.

“Yes, you are. Very.”

“I don’t get sick.”

“Apparently you do, because you are.” She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his hair away his forehead, pressing the back of her hand against his face. “You’re hot.”

He closed his eyes and muttered, “So are you.”

Jyn’s eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck. “And delirious,” she muttered, but then slowly grinned, and stayed by his side for a while as he slept, the smile never leaving her mouth.


	5. How much did you hear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “How much of that did you hear?” And “Why are you whispering?” For literatiruinedme
> 
> (Modern college AU)

Jyn was stumbling across the lawn, trying to head back inside the house so that she could use the restroom. The back door was blocked by a rather noisy group of Pi Kappa Alpha boys, all chanting some nonsense to a poor pledge as he shotgunned a beer. She set her jaw and turned to walk around the side of the house so that she could go in the front. As she rounded the dark corner, she heard Cassian’s voice.

“You have to help me, man. Jyn —I don’t know how to tell her.”

And then she heard Bodhi reply, “You just have to say it. I can find her for you. She’s around here somewhere—”

“No!” Cassian burst out. “No, not— she’s drunk, I don’t want her to —”

“Excuse me,” Jyn interrupted, stepping out of the shadows and apparently scaring the piss out of the both of them, because they both jumped, beer sloshing out of their solo cups. “I am not drunk.”

Cassian looked terrified.

“Jyn! Um, how much of that did you hear?”

Bodhi grinned and slapped his hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Good luck, mate,” he said, and walked off. Jyn fixed Cassian with narrow eyes.

“What was all that about?”

“Uh, nothing! I mean, I just — had to —”

He looked like he wanted to run away from her. She stepped closer to him, wobbling on unsteady feet. Cassian’s hand shot out and caught her elbow, and she fell against him. His face was terribly close. He smelled like decent cologne and cheap beer.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, his arm tight around her waist.

“Yes,” she replied, not really keen on pulling away. He was taller than she thought. “Why are you whispering?”

“Um, I just…” He licked his lips, and Jyn was suddenly focused on his mouth. She wondered…

“Jyn?”

“Hm?”

“Can I, uh… can I kiss you?”

Her eyes snapped to his. Could he read her mind? But she supposed it didn’t matter, because she had been about to kiss him anyway.

“Yes,” she replied, and stood on tiptoe to meet him halfway.


	6. Run!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!” and “Run for it!” for literatiruinedme
> 
> (In-universe, Rated T for language)

Cassian was haggling with the stall owner when he heard the blaster shots.

The market erupted, people screaming and running away from the north end of the street. His hand went to his blaster in reflex, and he spun around, expecting to find Jyn at his elbow, but she wasn’t there. His heart rate sped up exponentially.

“Jyn!” he shouted, eyes furiously scanning the chaos. Everyone was shoving, stall keepers were closing their awnings. Cassian pushed through the crowd, shouting her name, cursing her over and over in his head.

_Where the hell was she?_

The shouting from the top of the street got louder, and he looked that way, trying to figure out what was going on. It was a big market, lots of stalls. Likely it was petty theft — some urchin stealing food. But a loaf of bread seemed too small an item to be causing this big of a commotion.

Something was pushing its way down the street — the crowd was parting. Cassian’s hand gripped his blaster, and he moved backward, ready to blend into the masses…

… and then the trouble starter appeared, and Cassian was dismayed to discover that it was Jyn.

She was high-tailing it through the crowd, darting around bodies like lightning, in that way that only small people can do. She was heading straight for the stall he was standing in front of — _right where she had left him_ , he thought angrily. He considered ducking out of sight, before she could spot him, just to teach her a lesson. What the hell did she do? But then her eyes caught his, and she made a bee-line for him.

She didn’t stop. She just grabbed his hand and jerked him along, shouting ““Run for it!” and he had had no other choice but to take off with her.

“What did you do?” he yelled. All he heard was laughter, clear and bright.

Their pursuers burst through the crowd, and Cassian saw with a glance that — _fuck_ — it was the Hutts.

Oh, he was going to kill her.

She dragged him behind her, not letting go of his hand, and like an idiot he followed her, thinking the entire time that he should just hand her over to the Hutts, because they would likely be far more merciful than he would, once he got his hands around her skinny neck—

And then more gang members appeared at the bottom of the street, which Cassian saw first, being taller, and he took a sharp right turn down an alleyway, feeling Jyn’s arm go taut as she jerked and changed direction. They zigzagged through tight alleys, burst out into a crowded square, and he yanked her into it, listening for the tell-tale sounds of being followed. But the crowd closed up behind them, and the noise was that of a calm midday square, and they melted into the swarm of bodies, finally slowing to a walk.

But it was a brisk walk, because Cassian’s hand was in a vice around Jyn’s wrist, and he was dragging her across the square to an alley opposite the one they had come from, and when they ducked into it he threw her arm away and glared daggers down at her.

“What the hell did you do?” he hissed.

She had the gall to laugh. “Relax, Cassian.”

“No, I won’t, because those were the Hutts after us. What did you do?”

Her hand was in her pocket, fiddling with something. He amended his question.

“Jyn, what did you take?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Her expression was closed off. She was looking anywhere but at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!”

The corner of her mouth twitched, and she looked up at him through her lashes.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“The hell I would,” he snapped. “Jyn—”

She ducked her head, then pulled whatever it was from her pocket. Cassian looked down. It was a necklace of some kind.

“Here,” she muttered, and thrust it at him.

“What—?”

“It’s for you.” She squared her jaw and finally met his eyes, defiant.

He opened his mouth, and then shut it as he took it from her and held it up. It was a clear crystal, poorly cut but polished, hanging as a pendant on a length of black string. He sighed.

“Is this—?”

She nodded. “It’s kyber. I—” She swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest. She did that when she was nervous.

“It’s for luck,” she explained. ““I wanted you to have it, but I didn’t have the credits. But no one was looking, so I nicked it, but then—”

“Someone _was_ looking,” he finished for her, and she nodded. Cassian looked down at the pendant and took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he said, and a small, shy smile appeared on her lips.

“But don’t think this gets you off the hook,” he added. “That was a fucking stupid and reckless thing to do.”

But her smile had turned into a grin, and he found that he was grinning back, despite how pissed he still was. He put the necklace on and tucked it into his shirt. It was warm against his chest.

“C’mon,” he said, jerking his head towards the end of the alley. “Let’s get out of here.”


	7. Love Over a Sifter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A modern au archaeologist! fic, requested by @literatiruinedme, and seconded wholeheartedly by me, a trained archaeologist.
> 
> Rated E for language and sexual content.

Mexico was bloody _hot_.

Hot, and humid, and crawling with bugs the size of your fist.

But Jyn was studying Mesoamerican archaeology, so the trip to Mexico was required. A flight into Cancún (and a strong desire to just sneak into a beach resort), a two hour drive inland, and she had arrived with her other classmates in Pisté, the main city outside of their destination: the Mayan ruins of Chichén Itzá. She was genuinely excited to see the site — after all, the complex was almost 2000 years old, and boasted some of the most complex architectural structures of the ancient New World. She was more than anxious to get her hands in the dirt, too — their professor had said they would get to spend part of their week assisting local archaeologists on an excavation. So she had shown up on that first day, sweating profusely, ready to learn.

She had _not_ been prepared for the incredibly attractive graduate student that was their guide.

His name was Cassian, and he looked exactly like romance novels made archaeologists out to be — unruly dark hair that flopped over his eyes, five-day beard, cargo shorts permanently embedded with dirt. All he was missing was the revolver and the fedora. He had introduced himself in perfect English, but his accent was thick, and Jyn had swallowed and sent up a prayer to whatever deity existed in this part of the world: _please don’t let me make a fool of myself._

Cassian has showed them around parts of the complex, pointing out various features and answering obscure academic questions as they arose. Jyn had kept her head down, too shy to speak up. She was fascinated by the history, but Cassian made her nervous for reasons she couldn’t explain — well, at least that she didn’t _want_ to explain — so she had stayed silent throughout the tour. When they had boarded the bus to head back to town, he had waved them goodbye, and she may have been imagining it, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment, and his lips had turned up in a smile, and Jyn had blushed like a fiend and tripped climbing up the steps onto the bus.

The next day they had showed up to the site ready to assist in an ongoing excavation near the base of El Castillo, the largest step pyramid in the complex. Jyn was busy applying sunscreen to her already burnt skin when Cassian appeared, looking perfectly tan and comfortable in his T-shirt and shorts. She had swallowed and steered clear of him, choosing to man the sifter instead of getting into the thick of it in a trench. And she had been doing just fine, until Cassian climbed out of a square and headed her way.

She had frozen, bent over the tray, thinking _oh god he’s coming this way,_ but he walked past her, heading for the cooler that was on the rise behind her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. But then he came back by her, and stopped, and offered her a bottle of water. She accepted it in silence.

”Hello,” he said, and Jyn took a hasty drink of water and promptly choked on it. He smacked his hand on her back as she coughed, asking “Are you alright?” and she had nodded and croaked “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” until she could breathe again, and then they had stared awkwardly at each other, until Cassian asked her name.

”Huh?”

He frowned, uncertain. “Um, what is your name?”

She blushed, but she could blame it on the heat. She was sweating like a pig.

”Jyn,” she stammered.

He smiled down at her. He was an entire head taller than she was. It made it difficult to look him in the eye — she felt like she was standing on tiptoe.

”Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Cassian.”

”I know,” she said hastily. “I mean, you introduced yourself. Yesterday. On the tour.” She groaned internally.

But he had nodded, smiling. “Are you enjoying your visit?”

Small talk, she thought. He’s making small talk. Just being nice. No big deal.

”Yes,” she said. “It’s — hot.”

Fuck.

He laughed. Bodily. Shoulders shaking, head thrown back. When he looked at her again, his face was split with a grin. “Yes. It is. You get used to it.”

”Right,” she said, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet.

But he smiled at her a moment longer, and then looked back at the unit he had come from. “Well,” he said, “I have to get back.”

”Of course,” she replied. “I’ll, um...”

”See you later,” he finished.

”Yeah.” She bit her lip, and she may have imagined that his eyes went to her mouth. He seemed to hesitate, and then he waved his hand.

”Bye.”

”Bye,” she said lamely, and when his back was turned, she groaned and leaned against the sifter, head down, mind reeling.

She didn’t speak to him for another two days.

There had been glances, of course. Long ones. Ones she didn’t understand. When he turned his head towards her, like he was _looking_ for her, she froze and wanted to hide, but his eyes — they were the most marvelous shade of dark chocolate brown — seemed to be able to pin her down like a specimen on a board, and all she could do was look back at him and try not to blush from her toes to her hairline. But he didn’t approach her again, and she didn’t dare initiate conversation with him. What could she say? _I’m sorry, but I happened to notice you looking my way, and I was wondering: would you be interested in visiting my university-funded hotel room this evening?_

No. She wouldn’t speak to him. Not unless he spoke first. Again.

Oh, she was a mess.

On the fourth day, the Mexican university students decided to go out for the night, and they invited all of the exchange students to go, too. Jyn had thought _why not?_ and put on the least grubby outfit she had (a pair of shorts and a clean tank top), and had taken a cab with the other girls to a bar in town. She hadn’t expected Cassian to be there. He seemed too cool to participate in drunken debauchery.

She should have known better.

He was there at the bar with the rest of the students from the excavation, a glass of something in his hand, grinning as the American students walked into the dive with apprehensive looks on their faces. He had immediately ordered a round of shots for everyone, and the last coherent thought Jyn had was _oh dear._

She didn’t really like tequila, but by the fourth shot it no longer burned, and by shot number six she was dancing to music whose lyrics she didn’t understand. The world spun, and her mind whirled, and she laughed and laughed, feeling the most unrestrained she had since arriving in this country.

But then _he_ appeared beside her, his hands catching her waist as she stumbled into him, and _oh dear._  

Cassian was grinning down at her, asking her something, but it was in Spanish, and the music was too loud for her to understand.

”What?” she shouted, and he had laughed and put his lips to her ear.

”You’re a terrible dancer!” he told her, his accent thick. His breath was hot against her neck, and she shivered.

”Oh thanks!” she snapped, putting on her best indignant pout. It seemed to do the trick, because his hand gripped her waist, and he pulled her towards him, hips starting to sway with the music. Her blood thrummed in her veins, and her head was swimming. Oh...

Somehow she was dancing with him, and her nose fit just into the hollow of his chest. His hand was splayed across her lower back, the other holding his drink — was he drinking tequila straight? Their hips connected, they ground together, and Jyn sucked in a breath. She wasn’t sure what she was doing — had no idea, actually — but it felt _good_ , and she didn’t want to stop. And neither, it seemed, did he.

They danced together for a few songs, the beat loud and pounding through their bodies, and Jyn let her head fall to his chest, her arms going around his shoulders. Cassian lost his drink at some point — suddenly both of his hands were on her hips, and he was pulling her close, moving her body against his, and oh dear she was dizzy.

”I—“ she began, not entirely sure what she had intended to come out of her mouth, but he took one look at her and grabbed her hand and pulled her to the back of the bar. She followed silently.

He opened a door, and they were in an alley behind the building. Jyn took a gulp of air, and despite it being thick with humidity, it was at least fresh, and she breathed heavily for a bit, trying to regain herself. Cassian stood close to her, watching.

”Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just — You—“

He smirked. “What about me?”

Her tongue was loose.

”You’re just — well, so attractive, and I, well, I mean — me, and —“

He laughed, stepping closer. She stood up as straight as she could and looked him dead in the eye.

”I would like to kiss you,” she said.

He had grinned, and nodded. “Alright.”

”Um... may I?”

He closed the distance between them. He was terribly tall. “Yes,” he said, bringing his lips to hers. She swallowed, and leaned up.

He tasted like tequila, the good kind, not the shit they had been shooting. At first she thought he would just humor her, let her kiss him for a moment and then pull away and pat her on the head and say “there you go, now back inside.” But he didn’t. He kissed her back, soft at first, but then harder, moving closer until he was walking her backward, and then her back met the wall, and his body was pressed against hers, and oh dear...

His hands were on her hips, gripping the fabric of her shirt, and she could feel the muscles of his arms beneath her hands. He was tense, and she wondered why. His tongue touched hers, and that was rather nice, so she swept his mouth, tasting the burn of the liquor he’d drank, and then he pulled his lips away, panting.

”I’m sorry,” she said automatically. He shook his head.

”No. You’re fine. I just—“ He shrugged. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to do this.”

”Do what?”

And then a shy sort of smile appeared on his lips, and he said “Kiss you.”

Oh.

”Oh?”

His head fell to her shoulder for a moment, his shoulders shaking in a quick and silent laugh, and then he raised his head and met her eyes.

”Yes. I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first day. Since you tripped up the stairs of the bus.”

A blush erupted across her cheeks.

”Oh. Well.”

His hands were still on her waist. His thumbs were drawing circles on her hipbones.

”Do you—?”

”Want to go somewhere?” she offered, hoping to God thats where he was going. If not...

But he nodded. “My place is a few blocks from here. If you wanted to —“

”Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

They hailed a cab, and in the short ride to his flat, he kissed her again. Softer this time. Lingering. It made her knees turn to jelly, to the point where when the cab stopped, she wasn’t sure she would be able to get out. But he had taken her hand, and pulled her out of the car, and had walked her to the door with his hand on her back.

When they were inside, he let Jyn sit on the small couch and take it in. It was small, and cluttered with textbooks and notebooks and maps. Dirty clothes were scattered on the floor. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he said. “I don’t normally have guests.”

That was nice, she thought. Probably meant he didn’t have girls over. Not that it mattered. She was leaving in two days. No sense in getting attached. They were just — what were they doing?

”Would you like a drink?” he offered. She shook her head and stood, the room spinning for a moment, and he appeared at her side to steady her.

”Easy,” he said, and she leaned against him, and found his lips with hers.

He took his time this go around, letting his mouth explore hers at leisure. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and yes, it was as soft as she thought it would be. But then his hands were sliding beneath the hem of her top, and his fingers were rough and calloused, and the scrape and catch of them over her hips made her moan.

He pulled away, staring down at her. “Are you —“

”Yes,” she breathed, diving in. “Yes.”

He kissed her in earnest then, his tongue plunging into her mouth, and she was putty in his hands. His hands pulled the hem of her shirt up and over her head, and she lamented for a moment _why oh why didn’t I pack a decent bra?_ but that was gone too, tossed to the floor on the journey to — somewhere, a horizontal surface, hopefully. His hands cupped her breasts, teased her nipples, and her head fell back, exposing her neck, and his teeth sunk into her pulse, dragging a hot line down to her collarbone. Her knees hit something solid, and he was laying her back, kissing his way down her chest, her stomach, to the top of her shorts. He nipped at her hips, and then tugged her shorts down in one swift motion, dropping them to the side. He wasted no time — his lips found her center and she arched into him, mind reeling.

”Cassian,” she panted, “you don’t have to—“

”Shh,” he murmured into the skin of her inner thigh. “Let me.”

So she did, and oh dear. His mouth was hot against her, his tongue doing marvelous things, and her fingers were buried in his hair and she was straining towards him, her hips moving against his lips and oh, his beard scratching against her was something new, something she’d never experienced before. Her body began to tremble, straining towards the finish line, and just as she thought she wouldn’t be able to make it, he slid two fingers into her and curled them up, and she shattered with a cry. He was gentle then, mouth soft as she came down, and she tried to catch her breath. He moved to lay next to her, and she realized that he was still clothed, and that was a problem, wasn’t it?

She sat up, head spinning for a moment, then kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. Her fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, and he removed it, and then they danced around his belt, and he lay back so that she could undo it, only struggling for a moment, which had them laughing. When she finally got it undone (“Aha!” she exclaimed), she unzipped his shorts and pulled them down, and she sat back, taking him in. 

 _Figures_ , she thought distantly. _He’s perfect all over._

She wrapped her hand around him and ran her fingers up, then down, watching as his head fell back against the mattress.

He breathed out a word she didn’t understand, and she grinned. Feeling bold, she leaned down and touched her tongue to the tip of him, and a strangled groan escaped his throat. She thought about asking him how long it had been, but found it irrelevant— it had likely been just as long for her.

She took her time, running her tongue up and down his length before taking him into her mouth, sucking lightly. He started mumbling things in Spanish, things she was too intoxicated to translate, but she understood “dios mío” well enough, and when he dug his fingers into her hair she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, and he let out a pained moan.

”Jyn,” he begged. “I want—“

She sat back and wiped her hand over her mouth, and laid next to him. He caressed her cheek, kissed her softly, and then moved her back on the bed. He reached over to the bedside table and opened it, plucked a condom from the drawer and put it on — was he shaking? And then he was looming over her, and she spread her legs to either side of his hips, and he stirred himself at her entrance before sliding into her, and her head fell back to the pillow, mouth open, eyes closed.

His mouth was open too, she discovered, when she opened her eyes to find out why he wasn’t moving. She raised her hips to his, questioning, and he took a deep breath and kissed her, and began to move, slow at first, letting her meet him halfway. They found a rhythm, moving together like they’d done this before, like it was the easiest thing in the world, and she felt herself begin to condense into that single point, focused entirely on where they were joined, on the way he was moving within her. Nonsense words were spilling from her lips, and if she could hear past her pounding heart, she would know that he was doing the same. She felt the moment building, becoming sharp, and then his mouth found the spot beneath her ear, and his hips had thrust in just the right way, and her vision went white, ears ringing as she gasped and clenched around him. He groaned above her, and his hips jerked, and his head fell to her shoulder as he shook, the jolts of electricity sending bolts down his limbs.

Her hands trailed along his back, rested on his head, and when he pulled away she felt his absence acutely, feeling empty, until he came back and lay next to her, pulled her close next to him. It could have been awkward — it was, after all, a drunken fuck — but it felt natural to be tucked into his side. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, thinking.

”Yknow,” she said quietly, after a moment. “There’s a transfer program from my university to yours.”

She felt rather than saw the smirk that appeared on his lips.

”Oh?”

”Mhm.”

”And?”

She nuzzled his shoulder and sighed. “I think I could get in.”

He chuckled. “You’ll need to work on your Spanish.”

She smiled and said before she fell asleep, “I have you to help me.”

And he kissed the top of her head and followed her down.


	8. There’s so much left to learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From my song lyric ask meme, requested by mariganath: “There’s so much left to learn, and no one left to fight.”

Ewoks were strange little things, but they knew how to throw a party.

Jyn felt lightheaded from the bonfire smoke and the primitive alcoholic beverage that the natives had supplied. Her lips were turned up in a dazed sort of smile that still hadn’t gone away, even hours later. Alliance fighters sang and danced and fired their blasters into the sky in euphoria and it made her laugh, a high, bright sound that she barely recognized as her own. She saw Bodhi across the platform, a wooden cup in his hand and his eyes glazed over as he listened to a Pathfinder soldier recount the mission that had led to their success. She smiled wider and kept moving along the skyway, casting her gaze out, searching. She would have plenty of opportunities to hear the story from those who had been on the ground. She had all kinds of opportunities available to her now. She could do anything she wanted, be anyone she wanted to be. She had all the time in the galaxy.

But there was only one thing she wanted to do, only one person she wanted to be. But she had to find it first.

She had to find _him_.

She did, eventually. He was alone, feet hanging over the edge of a platform on the outskirts of the tree village and an empty cup dangling from his fingers. His face was turned up, his eyes on the sky that was full of stars and lingering ashes, and Jyn waited for a moment before going to him. He looked solemn, sad even, with his brows drawn together and his mouth turned down. For the first time that night, the corners of her own mouth fell. What was wrong? She stepped forward and spoke his name, uncertain, feeling like she was intruding on something.

“Cassian?”

He didn’t jump or start, but his shoulders went up a fraction of an inch before he turned his head. His expression softened when he saw her, and her smile returned.

“Hey,” he said, and gestured to the space on the platform next to him. She went to his side and sat down, dangling her feet over the edge and feeling a little dizzy from the height.

“I was wondering where you had gotten off to,” she told him. He ducked his head and twirled his cup in his hands.

“Sorry. I was… thinking.”

She cocked her head at him. “About what?”

“Oh,” he said casually, but didn’t meet her eyes. “A few things.”

She laughed. “Are you going to tell me?”

His mouth twisted into a sheepish grin, and he glanced over at her. “Maybe,” he said slowly, and she nudged his shoulder with hers.

“Secrets, secrets are no fun, Captain.”

That made him laugh, and her cheeks warmed. There had only been a few moments in her life when she had seen him laugh like that -- a laugh that reached his eyes and lit them up bright, a laugh that made his shoulders shake -- and each time it made her heart do somersaults in her chest. He didn’t laugh like that often, and when he did Jyn knew that it was because he was truly happy. Now, with the sky wide above them and homemade booze singing in her veins, the sound of his laugh made her want to cry with joy.

He was giving her a wry smile, and he looked down at his hands. “I was thinking…” He paused, chewing on the words that were stuck in his mouth, and then he laughed again. “Actually, I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking. I just -- I dunno.”

Jyn giggled. “Captain, I think you might be drunk.”

He frowned at her. “I am not,” he snapped, but then his shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Jyn grinned at him.

“It’s all right,” she told him, leaning back on her hands and looking up at the stars. “So is everyone else.”

He nodded. “What about you?”

She looked over at him, softening her gaze, thinking about how yes, her limbs felt heavy and her head was fuzzy and oh, how wonderful it would be if she were to just lean over and touch him, hold him, kiss him, because it was over, finally over, and now they had all the opportunities in the world…

“Jyn?”

“Hm?”

He was staring at her, and her face erupted with red.

“Oh, um. I -- yes. A bit. I guess.”

He gave her a funny look, and then looked away, his eyes going back to the sky.

“I was thinking about…” He sighed. “What now?”

She sat up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… What do we do now? That it’s over?”

Jyn watched his face fall into what looked like despair. Oh.

“Cassian,” she began, and she reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. “We just… we just _start_.”

He glanced at her, eyes unsure. She gave him a small smile.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, and Jyn -- on a whim -- reached out and brushed the hair back from his forehead and let her fingers trail across the stubble on his jaw. His eyes closed, and she might have imagined that he leaned into her palm, but then she took her hand back, and a gap yawned wide between them. Jyn felt an absence that she hadn’t expected. She’d never touched him like that before. Never so… intimately. They were partners. They cared for each other, of course, but it was platonic. They had almost died together, and that certainly created a special bond, but she had never really let herself think about it any further than that, until now, after everything, now that it was over…

_Every opportunity…_

But Cassian was speaking again.

“I’ve been in this fight my whole life,” he was saying, his voice verging on anguish. “It’s all I’ve ever done, all I’ve ever known. What do I do now that it’s over? What do I have left?”

The alcohol and the stars and the angle of his jaw were making her brave, and she gazed at him with soft eyes and whispered, “Me.”

His gaze snapped to hers, his brown eyes wide at first, but then his expression shifted to something she’d never seen on his face before, something that made her breath come short. His hand came up between them, hanging in the air for a brief moment before he returned her earlier gesture and tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered against her cheek, and her eyes fluttered shut with a sigh. She heard the creak and groan of wood as he shifted closer, felt his knee nudge hers, and when she opened her eyes he was close enough that she could count the specks of gold in his irises.

“Jyn,” he breathed, and she took a deep breath before their lips met.

The kiss was brief, but it left them breathless anyway. When he pulled away -- and she really wished he hadn’t -- she opened her eyes and found that he was blushing from his neck all the way to his hairline, and the sight of it made laughter bubble up in her chest and come spilling out of her mouth, loud and unrestrained. Cassian looked like he wanted to run away, but then a slow grin appeared on his face, and his shoulders began to shake, and he was laughing too.

“Oh, love,” she gasped, leaning against him. Her head was spinning in the most delightful way, and his eyes were so, so warm in the light of the distant bonfires, and oh, they had every opportunity in the galaxy, didn’t they?

“We can do this, right?” he asked her suddenly, taking her hands in his. “We can -- I mean, do you want to -- I don’t know, maybe --”

She grinned at him, and cupped his face in her palms and pressed her forehead to his. “Yes,” she told him. “I think we can.”

He swallowed. “I’m not sure I know how to --”

“Shh,” she whispered, and she leaned into him, saying, “I think we can learn.”

And he nodded, and she kissed him, and the stars wheeled across the sky overhead, witness to opportunities taken and won.

 

 


	9. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From my song lyrics ask box meme, requested by cptincassian: _“There never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them / I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with”_
> 
> Sorry, this ended up being canon-compliant. Oops.

The shafts of light that filtered into the lift as it descended weren’t as harsh on her features as he thought they would be. It was an Imperial complex -- everything was designed to be sterile and cold, even the lights in a lift. But as the car carried them down to the surface, the light panels created a glow instead of a glare, and cast her face in an intermittent soft whiteness that made her look like she’d come from the moons of Iego. He’d never actually seen an Angel of course, but he’d heard rumors, and if they did exist, then Jyn most certainly was one of their kind. If he were to die -- and he had the sinking feeling that he was in the process of doing so, much to his regret -- at least he would do it staring into the green eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. Before (something in his mind had begun categorizing things as “before Jyn” and “after”), he wouldn’t have thought twice about dying, especially if it were after the sort of outcome they had just achieved on their mission. But now, in the _a_ _fter_ …

She was leaning in close to him, her green eyes wide and her lips parted as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. And what was there to say? He met her eyes and thought, _Did she know?_ Did she know that he thought she was beautiful? Did she know that he thought the world of her? That she had changed him in more ways than he could count, that she had turned his entire universe upside down and made him into the man he thought his mother would want him to be? Should he tell her? Now, that he was (very likely) dying, should he be himself -- Cassian Andor of Fest, and not someone else -- so that he could speak truths to her without guilt? The questions swirled in his head, but he couldn’t grasp hold of the corresponding actions, except for one.

It almost couldn’t be called a kiss, because the lift jolted to a halt only seconds after their lips touched and the shock of the sudden stop made Cassian suck in a breath and curl in on himself, around the wound in his side. But she was there, holding him up, helping him out of the lift, almost carrying him across the sand to the edge of the water. A thought seared sharp through his brain as he looked up and out across the water: _if we get out of here, I’m going to love her._ His conviction in that thought was as bright as the setting sun which turned the sky to fire.

But it wasn’t a sunset. The sun was disappearing, eclipsed by some heavenly body. They realized what it was at the same time, and he slumped against her as their eyes gazed at the flash of blazing white on the horizon, as the world began to shatter beneath their feet and the end sped towards them.

He could have shouted. Could have been furious, enraged, distraught. But all he could do was think:

 _Damn_ . _Time’s up._


	10. A coward might call it conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A song lyric drabble requested by captainandors, with the lyric "Nothing could ever make me more frightened than the thought of hurting you." I added a few more lines from that AMAZING song to the prompt at the beginning. Hope you like it!

_ “And all of the things I thought I could rise above / I could not / And all of the things I thought I was better than / I am not / A coward might call it a conscience / Nothing could ever make me more frightened than the thought of hurting you.” _

She told herself that it was for the best.

She had done her part. She’d led the mission, she’d acquired the plans. She had watched the victory and felt immense relief. But after, her old self had crept back in, a whispering voice that complained of confinement, of responsibility, of the futility of  _ honor _ and  _ heroism _ .

In the rush to evacuate Yavin IV, in the aftermath of the Death Star, she had packed what little belongings she had and made a plan to hijack a ship -- any ship -- and leave. She tried not to think of it as running, but there was another voice in her head, a remnant of her mission to Scarif, that also whispered to her. It sounded achingly familiar, a voice that made her throat close up when she thought of the faces that accompanied it: sightless, sad, broken -- all faces that had trusted her, had led her to her one act of nobility. It told her to think of the others, to think about what she would be leaving behind. It spoke of the damned Cause. But she shut the door on that voice and chose to listen to the more urgent one that screamed at her and made her skin buzz.

_ Run. Run far, run fast. _

But as she moved through the bunker on her way to the hangar the night she planned to escape, another voice stopped her in her tracks. A real one, spoken aloud from the mouth of someone that startled her enough to make her jump and pull her blaster out in reflex as she spun around. Thankfully she had enough self-control to hold off on pulling the trigger, because she really didn’t feel like killing anyone before she left, but when she realized who had spoken her name, she almost wished she  _ had _ fired. It would have made things a lot easier.

It was Cassian.

“So this is it,” was all he said. His voice was flat, emotionless, but she had spent enough time with him in the last few weeks to recognize the pain in his eyes. She was getting to know his tells. He would be furious to know.

She pursed her lips, steeled her jaw. He meant nothing to her.

At least that’s what she told herself.

“They got what they wanted,” she told him, raising her chin in defiance, daring him to talk down to her like he had done before, when they had first met. If she made him into the cold and calculating spy he had been to her then, then it would be easier to leave. But he was looking at her with those dark eyes that had always seemed to tear through her, and her resolve began to crumble. She felt panic rise up from her stomach like bile into her throat. She swallowed it down, but it left her mouth sour, and the taste spilled out in words that she no longer really meant.

“The Alliance doesn’t need me anymore,” she explained, ashamed that her voice wavered at the end. He was ten yards away, but his eyes --  _ damn him and damn his eyes --  _ stared into hers like he was only inches before her, unblinking and brown and  _ broken. _ She bit her lip, frowning, desperate to turn and run. He took a step towards her, she took a step back, and he stopped, his calm expression cracking right down the middle to reveal pain so blatant that she gasped.

_ No, no, this wasn’t supposed to be happening… _

“And what about me?” he asked quietly, but his voice boomed in her ears. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage hard enough to bruise. The voice in her head, the one that wanted to run, was screaming now, loud and violent.

_ RUNRUNRUNRUN _

She stumbled and stuttered. What did he mean? What about him? A billion synapses went off in her brain, centered around those words:  _ what about me?  _ The other voice -- the one her cowardly self was beginning to call a  _ conscience _ \-- shouted over the RUN in her head, singing Cassian’s name and the potential meanings behind his words. Her fear multiplied, all of her reasons for wanting to leave without being seen or heard focusing into the singularity in front of her.

She hadn’t wanted him to know. She had wanted to leave without telling him, without saying goodbye. She wouldn’t have, because she hadn’t wanted to see his face when she told him.

She would have died before hurting him the way she was now.

“Cassian,” she choked out, taking another step backward. He took a step forward, and when she froze, he kept going, closing the distance between them. He took up all the space before her, took up all the space in the hall, all the space in the damn bunker. He was  _ too _ close. Her heart raced, was surely going to crack her ribs. She tried to look anywhere but at him, but his hand reached out and brushed hers, and a sob broke from her clenched teeth.

“Don’t,” she pleaded in a whisper, shaking her head and clenching her eyes shut in a futile effort to stop the tears that had formed in the corners. But his fingers were lacing with her own, and he was breathing her air, and she was falling into him, and  _ oh no,  _ this wasn’t supposed to happen…

His jacket smelled like blaster oil. She fit beneath his chin just right, and all of her strength drained from her in one long and shuddering sigh. His arms went tight around her shoulders and he held her as she began to cry, silent at first, and then wails of grief and fear and all of the things she hadn’t let herself feel before this moment, things that she had sworn to push away and shove down into the deepest recesses of herself, never to be looked at again -- the feelings she had for him.

“I’m sorry,” she told him when the sobs turned to hiccups and whimpering. He was still holding her. She clung to the front of his jacket, afraid to pull away and look up and see his face. Shame coursed through her veins. She had tried to walk away from him, from  _ this,  _ this feeling of safety and security that she knew when he held her. She had felt it once before, on a beach. It had scared her then, too, but she had been about to die, so she hadn’t let it trouble her. But then they lived, and she had been terrified of it, so much so that she had tried to escape it. She had felt trapped by it, that feeling that he gave her. But now, with his breath warm in her hair, she melted into him and let herself feel  _ safe _ and  _ wanted _ . Because he did want her, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry,” she said again, pressing her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, strong and steady. It’s tempo slowed her reeling mind and calmed her own racing heart. He pulled back a bit, and she was forced to meet his eyes. She thought he would be upset with her, that he would berate her for attempting to leave, but he was simply watching her face like he was seeing it for the first time. His hand came up to touch her cheek, his thumb wiping the tears away.

“Why?” he asked softly, searching her face. She looked down at her hands, which were still grasping the front of his jacket.

“I was afraid,” she replied in a whisper.

“Of what?”

She was embarrassed to speak, but he nudged her chin up so that she had to look at him again. She took a deep breath.

“Of…  _ this. _ Of you.”

She was surprised, and then relieved, to see him smile at that. It was a small and shy sort of smile, and it made her smile back. Her heart resumed its quickened pace for an entirely new reason.

“Why?” he asked again. She shifted uneasily. Did they have to talk about this now? He had to know that she would no longer leave, surely this discussion could wait for another time…

“I -- I don’t know. I’ve never --”

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Neither have I. But I think --”

She took a deep breath. This was  _ not _ how she had expected this escape to go.

“I didn’t peg you for a romantic,” she said, feeling a little dizzy.

He actually laughed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, good. Me neither. That’s a good start.”

“A good start to what?”

He was suddenly grinning at her, and she felt her face burn with embarrassment.

“I dunno. Whatever this…  _ intervention _ is.”

His grin was infectious and she hated him for it.

“Stop it,” she snapped, but he didn’t, so she gave him a shove. “Cassian --”

He sobered his expression. “Promise you won’t try to leave again,” he said seriously, holding tight to her hand. She nodded, unable to refuse him and mildly terrified of that fact. But she forced the fear down and allowed herself to think for just a moment about the possibilities, about what it would mean to  _ stay _ , for once in her life…

“I’ll stay,” she told him, squeezing his hand like it was a lifeline. And maybe it was. She was breathless from the way he was looking at her. Had he always looked at her like that?

“Glad to hear it,” he said, and then after only a brief hesitation he leaned down and kissed her, and that was rather nice. Much better than the panic she had felt when he’d caught her running away. His mouth was soft and warm against hers, and the rasp of his stubble against her chin made her sigh and wrap her arms around his shoulders. She decided very quickly that she would enjoy kissing him often, if he would let her. She thought he might.

Why had she wanted to run again?


	11. 30 Minutes to Post

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For TinCanTelephone (cats-and-metersticks on tumblr) with the dialogue prompt: “Why are you helping me?”
> 
> Behold: the “Kota drank lots of beer while gambling on ponies” ficlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I challenged myself to keep this under 1K words. I barely scraped by at 997. Ha!)

The first thing Cassian noticed was the horse — cinnabar red with stockings on the rear legs and a snip on its nose. She was tall like all thoroughbreds are, and held herself well, ears forward and neck arched beautifully against her reins. A good horse, one he would enjoy watching tonight.

The second thing he noticed was the jockey. A woman  _ — _ dark-haired and small like all jockeys were — cursing like a sailor at the stable hand who was trying to lead her horse to its stall. He frowned. The stable hand was shaking his head at the jockey, not because he was disagreeing with what she was yelling at him, but because he didn’t understand what she was saying — the kid was an immigrant, fresh from Mexico and barely a lick of English. Most of the handlers were immigrants — some of them on the right side of the law, some not. Cassian himself had come to the US six years ago, looking for work. He’d had connections through an old family friend, which had gotten him working at this track, handling the horses that came every Tuesday and Saturday to race. It was good work, and he had made good friends and lived a good life. The boy this jockey was yelling at — well, he was just doing his best. Cassian sighed, then hopped off the paddock fence and headed towards them, ready to tell the jockey to back off.

“You can’t just grab the reins from me!” she was shouting at the stable hand. “She’s skittish, she doesn’t like it when other people handle her!”

The stable hand was shaking his head, explaining over and over again  _ I’m sorry, I don’t understand, I don’t speak English very well _ , and Cassian hurried to his side, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder and taking the horse’s reins from him.

He told the boy in his own tongue that he had it under control, to go back to the stable. The hand sighed in relief, then took off back towards sanctuary. Cassian glanced at the horse — she was beautiful, really — and turned to the jockey. Good lord, she was small.

“He didn’t understand you,” he said sharply. “He doesn’t speak English.”

The jockey looked up at him with wide green eyes, her cheeks flushed. Was she embarrassed?

“I —“ she stuttered, her eyes falling to her boots. “I didn’t—“

She was British, he discovered with a small shock. What on earth was she doing  _ here? _

He cut her off with a curt “It’s fine” and yanked the horse’s head back down after she snorted and nodded in agitation.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice high. “I didn’t know — I just —“

“It’s fine,” he repeated, slower this time and with less bite. She looked like she was barely 20 years old.  _ What was she doing here? _

The jockey was still bright red and staring at her boots. Cassian started to feel bad for her. She wasn’t an American. It was possible she didn’t know that it was common for immigrants to work the stables and as handlers. To make her feel better, he put a hand out and rubbed the velvet of the horse’s nose.

“She’s beautiful,” he said. “What’s her name?”

The jockey perked up, looking grateful that the topic had turned. “Stardust,” she said with a fond smile, reaching up to scratch the horse on her forehead. But then she grimaced and said, “Er --   _ Emperor’s Planet Killer _ , I mean.”

He laughed. “I like Stardust better.”

She looked up at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she grinned and said, “Me too.”

His heart rate picked up a bit when he saw that smile, and he grinned back at her. “And your name is?”

She faltered a bit, as though she wished they could still be talking about the horse. “Oh. Erso. Jyn Erso.”

Cassian nodded. “Jyn. I haven’t read your name in the books yet.”

Her blush returned. “Um, no, I -- I just got here. To the States, I mean.”

He nodded again, chuckling a bit. “I can tell.” He leaned towards her and lowered his voice. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

She inhaled a sharp breath before nodding and leaning in.

“If you want to win, you should learn Spanish,” he told her, and then burst out laughing when her eyebrows went first up in surprise and then drew down in a glare immediately after.

“I -- You --” she sputtered, and he kept on laughing. The horse whinnied and tossed her head as though she were laughing, too, which made Jyn redden further and Cassian laugh harder.

“I mean it, though,” he said after he had caught his breath. “Learn the language, make friends with the handlers. They’ll take care of you and Stardust.”

She looked unsure and still a bit angry that he had laughed at her, but she reached out and took Stardust’s reins from his hand. Her fingers brushed his, featherlight and gone in a millisecond, but it made him suck in a breath. Jyn looked up at him through her eyelashes, as though considering something, and then asked, “Why are you helping me?”

He didn’t have to think on it long.

“I was new once,” he said. “I remember what it was like.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Their eyes met, and Cassian wondered briefly what she might be like, if he were to get to know her. He wondered if she would stick around, so that maybe he could get the chance.

The trumpet sounded across the racetrack, announcing that the first race was about to start. They both jumped, then gave each other sheepish smiles.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jyn said, and then she turned and led Stardust away. Cassian watched her leave, and then headed towards the stables.

He wanted a stats book. He needed to look up a jockey.


	12. Sucker Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M
> 
> For the 2nd Rebelcaptain Smut Weekend, requested by @thereigning-lorelai, dialogue prompt: "I could really use a fuck right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompter asked me to write this as a non-established relationship ficlet, which some of you might know is out-of-the-norm for me, so this was actually great fun to fill, a bit of challenge. Please enjoy!

He hears her say something, but he can’t decipher the words -- his heart is pounding and he’s trying not to get hit. He’s not too proud to admit that his ass is about to get handed to him, but they’re not finished sparring yet, and he might still be able to turn this around as long as he can stay ahead of her swings --

He blocks the fist that was on a direct path to his jaw (he knows they’re wearing protective gear, but really, does she have to throw punches like that?) and takes a shot right back, grunting, “What?”

She ducks and backs off a step, panting out, “I said, I could really use a fuck right now.”

Whatever it was he’d thought she’d said, that definitely wasn’t it. He blanks, brain short-circuiting, because holy hells, did she really just --? And now he’s imagining it, and he’d be lying if he said he’d never imagined it before, because he has. A lot. He sees her on the mat beneath him, glistening with a sweat that he rode her to, head thrown back, mouth open as she moans his name --

He only snaps out of it when he sees her fist coming for his face again, but he can’t get his hands up fast enough to block it. She notices at the last second and tries to pull the punch, her eyes going wide in panic because hells, why isn’t he dodging? But she’s put too much force behind the hit, expecting him to deflect it and push her back, and now she can’t adjust, so instead of missing, Jyn crashes into him, and they both hit the mat.

The impact knocks the breath out of him and he lies there, stunned for only a second before he realizes what’s happening. She’s on top of him, gasping for air like the fall winded her, too, and her legs are tangled with his and her chest is pressed against him and oh  _ hells  _ when she begins scrambling to get back up her hips grind into his and he can’t help the groan that comes out of his mouth.

She freezes at the noise, and he holds his breath, clenching his eyes shut so that he can  _ get a fucking grip, Andor  _ \--

Her weight eases off of him a bit, but she’s only shifting her body around so that she’s -- oh Force, she’s straddling him, and she knows, she has to know now that he’s hard, he couldn’t help it.

He swallows and opens his eyes, expecting to find disgust on her face, because really, he’s a sleaze, thinking about her like this, but what he sees instead is surprise, her eyes wide, and he sucks in a breath, frozen to the spot.

Time has stopped, and neither of them move for what feels like an eternity, and then suddenly her lips twitch up at the corners and her eyes crinkle, and karking hells, she’s about to  _ laugh at him. _

“Cassian,” she starts, and he’s doing everything he can to avoid meeting her eyes, but they keep drawing him back, and he can’t breathe. He can’t even speak, his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, and damn his traitor brain, he’s still thinking about what she said, is imagining her riding him now.  _ What the fuck is wrong with him?! _

She’s still staring at him, and he knows he’s done for. She’s going to kill him.

He opens his mouth to begin apologizing, wanting desperately to get out from under her so that he can think again, but then, oh  _ shit, _ her hips shift and she rubs against him and his eyes roll back a bit. He hears her giggle -- she’s  _ giggling _ at him, like she thinks he’s cute, that the agony he’s obviously experiencing is  _ funny. _

He opens his eyes and glares at her for all he’s worth, but she’s grinning down at him, and he feels her thighs tense like she’s about to move her hips again, and a flash of anger slices through him. No. She’s not getting away with that again.

Before she can torture him again, before she can actually laugh out loud, he twists under her and flips them in one swift move, pinning her to the mat beneath him. Her gasp is satisfying in more ways than one.

Jyn stares up at him, eyes wide in shock, her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath. A drop of sweat slides down her jaw to the hollow behind her ear, and he watches it, everything inside of him on fire. He hears her breath hitch, and his eyes dart back to hers. He’s almost knocked over by the look he finds there.

She’s turned on.

She’s panting, and it’s not because of the sparring match anymore. He can see her pulse jumping in her throat, and his races in response. His lips twist into a wolf grin, and something in her expression shifts, something that looks like fear crossing her face at first, and then it melts into something that lights him up like a supernova.

He needs to rein this in before he fucks her right there on the mat.

His body screams against it, but he pulls away, sitting back on his heels. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands, and holds out a hand to her. She looks up at him, and he sees the flash of disappointment cross her face before she covers it up with her usual mask of indifference. But when she takes his hand and lets him help her to her feet, he pulls her in a bit closer than a friend would, making their bodies touch the whole length of their sides for the briefest of moments, and he hears her gasp.

He lowers his voice to something deeper than it normally would be, and murmurs, “Was that an invitation?”

Her eyes flick down the front of his pants, and then to his chest, like she’s suddenly shy and unable to meet his eyes. “Are you accepting?” she replies.

His heart is still racing, and somehow it manages to pump faster at those words. He feels a bit breathless as he whispers, “‘Fresher first, then my room?”

She lets out a short laugh, and steps away. “Give me fifteen,” she says to him with a little more confidence, her mouth smirking even though her face is bright red. Whether she’s blushing from embarrassment or if she’s just pleased, he doesn’t know.

He grins at her regardless, and she grins back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are never expected but are, of course, always appreciated.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @kotaface to chat, send me prompts, or to see previews of my other fics.
> 
> Later!
> 
> ~Avey


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